


Life for the Third Time

by ImaKaraTabiHe



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Son of Batman (2014)
Genre: Bat Family, Character Death, Cookies, Damian has computer skills, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escape, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know, Lazarus Pit, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Resurrection, Whump, or is it whump anymore?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7410160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaKaraTabiHe/pseuds/ImaKaraTabiHe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't supposed to end like this.. But dying as Robin wasn't something Damian hadn't expected.  Realizing that this wasn't the first time he would die, however, wasn't something he had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fishfingersandjellybabies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/gifts).



His head spun and his lips were abnormally wet. Why was he here again? Where was here? Brows furrowed he tried to turn his head to see, but gasped as pain jolted through his body. _What happened?_

“Damian!”

He groaned at the noise that seemed to make the pounding in his head worse. Artificial black filled his vision as Nightwing knelt beside him, face contorted with panic and worry, like his heart was breaking. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think through the pain filled haze.

Ah, he remembered. A mafia war in Gotham. Batman had gathered everyone there. They had fought when someone had grabbed him mid-fight. Damian'd struggled and fought but every time he fought someone was there breaking him, beating him, making him bleed.

He'd been stabbed with a long knife through the chest when Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin had showed up. They fought with the guys and had apparently made their way towards him. How he ended up on the floor, he couldn't say.

Chest heaving, each breath felt like a stab all of its own and his cough became wet.

“Damian! Ssh, it's going to be okay,” Nightwing told him, voice wavering from its usual strong conviction. “It's going to be okay, little bird,” he promised, although it sounded hollow to his ears.

“N—no..” It wasn't going to be okay. The wet liquid that dribbled from his mouth and down his face were more than enough evidence of that. He knew. He was dying.

And by a strange sort of sensation, he was shocked by the realization that this wasn't the first time. He had died before.

His stomach churned and he felt the urge to heave as if he would be sick. _He'd died before. Why was he just remembering that fact now?_

Pain mixed with a numbing cold that slid through his body like waves over a beach and he had never felt such a desire to crawl into Grayson's lap for safety before now. Memories were starting to accompany that strange sensation as black spots danced in his vision and the yelling of Nightwing and his family faded into the distance.

He remembered it. The terror, the fear, the insatiable desire to kill or be killed. The darkness of a pit. The green glow of the Lazerus Pit. The loneliness. The reason.

A dying whine slipped passed his throat as Nightwing came back into sight again. He opened his mouth to tell him, tell him that it was okay, he'd died once before already and that it was fine, but he choked on blood and only gargles came out.

Nightwing was yelling for him. Batman was yelling for him. Hood and Red Robin were screaming his name. They were all calling for him to live, but he could only give them a small smile as his eyes slipped close and his consciousness faded into nothing.

His heart gave one last aching beat before it stilled into silence.

  


Green.. green, green, nothing but green. It was such a sickly glow. He knew exactly what it was.

Damian struggled in the liquid as fire burned in his veins and visions of nightmares, of horrifying things ran through his mind. He wanted to scream but his mouth sucked in the liquid inside of air and he choked.

Finally he managed to breach the surface and coughed up the vile liquid, gasping as oxygen filled his lungs.

“Fuck!”

Damian coughed as he pulled himself onto the ledge of the green pool. His body shuddered violently as emotions and visions threatened break him.

“Shit, shit, shit...” He wrapped his arms around himself as if he could hold everything back and keep himself from falling apart.

“Not the first time,” he reminded himself, teeth grinding in effort. “Just get to the pit.”

Wildly his eyes glanced about the cavern at a speed that would've made the Flash envious. There was a drop off with a small lantern hanging about it. That's where he needed to go.

He was too out of it to stand so he pulled himself, crawling slowly to the edge of the drop off. Eying the darkness with more than a little distaste and hatred, he reached out and snagged a tangled vine that disappeared in the depths.

When a rather violent wave of pain and hate lanced through him, he pulled himself over the edge with one hand hanging onto the vine and let himself swing over the black depths. His mind kept telling him to _climb back up, find people, tear them apart! Tear, tear, tear!_ But he knew better than that so he kept a tight grip on himself and let the vine slide through his fingers, lowering him into the pit slowly.

He tried not to think about the coming weeks, maybe even months of being in the pit where everything was pitch black and the only food consisted of edible cave plants that tasted like dirt. He could at least appreciate the black pool of water – _normal_ water – that he would use to drink. 'Only the best for psychotic resurrectees,' he sarcastically muttered to himself as his feet hit the floor of the pit.

As another wave of destructive fury flashed through his body, he curled up against the pit wall and sobbed. His body shook with effort to remain still and his breaths came like ragged edges of glass ripping into him.

It was in this time that the unpleasant urge for death would rear its head. It was like a disease that slowly filled his body. Just as he remembered it would come and take hold, shaking him until he wanted to kill himself, yelling at him until he felt like everything in the world was nothing but pain and agony. Unless he found a way to control himself he would come to believe that everything and everyone wasn't worth it and he would picture the destruction of the world.

Days passed.

There was the bitter, earthy taste of the plants that kept him grounded when his mind was ravaged by the onslaught of nightmares and rage. It was a disgusting taste, but he loved it – loved what it did to him, how it anchored him.

When he wasn't clear headed, he would scream until his lungs gave out, until his throat was raw and burning, yelling for death – his death, his family's, the world's..

He'd always been so blatantly avoiding expressing his feelings, but in those weeks.. He cried and begged for his family. For Dick. For Tim, Jason, Alfred and his father.

At least this time he had people to call for, people he loved and wanted to save him; people who would save him if he needed it. Before, he only remembers screaming and crying out for nothing. He had even less reason to live than he did now. His family was the only reason he was determined to go through this Hell a second time.

Despite his will to make it through, there were bad days.

One day, after being battered by visions of his family's deaths, he tore a hole in his wrist with his teeth. Normally the terrible pain would be a warning, but he was so out of his mind with grief and pain that he didn't notice what he had done until the blood loss made him so dizzy it jerked him out of his haze. It scared him that he'd been so determined and his lack of regret was something that took a lot longer to fade than his grief for that nightmare came on.

Another day, he had a vision that there were scorpions everywhere, crawling on him, stinging him. Crawling everywhere in the dark, on his body, on the ground, on the walls. He writhed and screamed and begged so much for anything, anyone. It was so painful, like being stabbed by thousands of knives over and over and over again. He thought his bones were going to shatter.

The days went on like that. Nightmare after nightmare. Vision after vision. All under the curse of the Lazarus Pit.

Returning to life was a 'gift' some people would call it, but really it was a curse. Death was no walk in the park. It was purely pain and destruction. Returning to life… at least via the Lazarus Pit scarred you. It left its mark on your soul.

Once was terrifying. Twice – twice was shattering.

In his fervor, Damian could only beg to come out of this sane. For whatever reason, he had forgotten the first time he was resurrected by the Pit and had been able to live a life relatively free from its branding influence. Now that he remembered his first time, now that he was going through it a second time, he wasn't sure how he was going to get through it.

Jason Todd – Todd, he hadn't had the luck or whatever it could be called to have forgotten his resurrection. He'd become a killer with such blood lust that he'd separated from his own family and became the Red Hood.

Despite re-bonding with the Wayne family it was more than obvious that he still suffered from random bouts of rage and murderous instincts. Damian had been witness to his nightmares and had wondered what could make the former killer look so helpless and small, but now he knew. He remembered.

In his heart, he wondered if he'd be fractured beyond help. Todd was strong, perhaps stronger than Damian. The kinds of things he'd seen made him wonder if they'd even want him back.

The very idea that perhaps they wouldn't want him back made him curl up during his moments of lucidity and hug himself tight, wrapping his arms around his form, even thinner than before his second death. Surely, they'd still want him.. wouldn't they?

After three months of horrendous nightmares and mind numbing pain, of eating plants in the pit and barely managing to clean himself in one of the pools of water at the bottom, the pain started to ease and the nightmares gave way to some happier thoughts, memories of better times.

Memories of having ice cream with Grayson, playing with Titus, petting Alfred, having a few intellectual conversations with Drake.. being about Todd, who knew the struggle to not kill. Alfred's cooking.. His father being Batman and patrolling with him.

The little bits of happiness started to shine through the darkness and he found himself more able than before to control himself, if only by a little. Damian himself didn’t know how long he had survived in that darkness. He wasn’t even sure he remembered how he got there in the first place.

There were flashes of memories, ghost echoes of bones breaking and shouting.. Now that he can think more clearly, he pieces together his death. Someone had grabbed him mid-fight and he’d struggled and fought but every time he fought someone had been there like a cancer he couldn’t get rid of. They had beaten him, broken him and finally when it seemed nothing worse could happen they’d stabbed him. Straight through the chest, which must’ve nicked an artery based on how fast he’d bled out and died.

Damian vaguely remembers the blurry forms of Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin as they showed up. He remembers Nightwing – Dick, holding him, holding onto him and practically begging him not to die, begging someone, _anyone_ to do something. His heart clenched with guilt as he saw the panic on his Batman’s – now Nightwing’s – face. Dick had been panic stricken, looking shattered and beyond saving. It hurt to think he put that there.

Although he was getting better, there were still lingering nightmares, still moments where he felt overcome with rage and paralyzing fear. Sometimes he felt pain surging through his body, but for the most part, he could function normally. It was just those rare moments that left him unstable.

Home… it sounded so perfect. He had to get out of there. He had to get back to his family.

Holding onto the memories of his family, he washed himself as best as he could and ate and drank whatever he had collected from the pit. He had become weak from his time spent in hallucinations and that just wouldn’t do. He needed to regain his strength. As he was, he would be easy pickings for any assassin. Ra’s would be ashamed of him.

Damian spent the next month training. When he wasn’t eating or sleeping, he was throwing punches, exercising, doing whatever it took to get back the muscle he lost. Sometimes he collapsed from overworking himself, but all it took was a memory of being Robin and fighting crime with Batman or Nightwing and then he was at it again.

The burn of his muscles aching made him smirk. He was getting stronger, day by day. By the end of the month he was about 75% recovered. There were several techniques that he was a little rusty on and the strength of his right hand was kind of weak, but it would return with time. His left hand was more than enough for his daily needs.

His current condition would have to be good enough. If he waited any longer, he knew that his mother would show up and take him away. Damian wasn't going to spend the rest of his life locked in his mother's web of delusions. No, he was going to get away and to do that he needed to go _now._

Damian pulled himself together, bathing and gathering any of the edible vegetation he could find. He couldn't take any water with him, but he'd have to get some once he escaped. Money? Yeah, he was broke. He'd have to steal, which he was surprisingly okay with.

'Maybe Father can send them something…' He shook himself. He was thinking too far into the future. If he wanted to have a future, he needed to go.

Damian gritted his teeth, gripping the vine and began to pull himself up. His arms burned and he was breathing heavily halfway up. Cursing fluently in French, Korean, and Arabic, he reached an outcropping in the wall with his legs and pulled the vine to cradle him as he rested almost as if he was laying on the ground, except there was no ground – he was horizontal midair.

When the vine began to dig too much into his skin, he unwound it from his under his arms and upper back and let his legs fall back to the vine. Swaying while the vine refocused itself, losing energy as it swung, he prayed that he'd make it home.

He began climbing again with renewed strength and excessive determination. Damian wasn't going to lose. Would he ever allow himself to lose so easily?

Damian scoffed. Losing meant going back to Ra's and his mother. No, he wouldn't like that at all. Not anymore. Not with who he's become.

He reached out and grabbed a rock at the top and used both the upper part of the vine and the rock to pull himself out of the pit. It took a lot of energy to ensure that he had pulled himself up enough that he wouldn't be in danger of falling back if he took a break.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, making him wipe it away with a calloused, reddened hand. He tried to keep his panting as silent as possible as his eyes darted around the rest of the cavern. It was a relief to see no one there, but it wasn't unusual. Who would guard the waters and the boy in the pit if they didn't believe he had the strength to escape?

Regaining life after death.. returning to life took a great deal of time and effort as well as sanity. There were some who never made the full transition back to life. Damian grinned, full of sharp teeth. He made it once before. 'They should be more careful,' he chided with a sort of deadly glee.

It took more time and effort than he wanted to spent slipping passed the guards that awaited outside the cavern door. There were a few times he had no choice but to knock them unconscious or injure them so they wouldn't be able to stop him. It was even an effort not to kill, but he did it with a growing internal realization that he was almost free.

It was hardly a surprise when he made it to the ground level that he knew this complex. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the fresh, night air, pushing down demons inside of him that wanted to rip, maim, destroy.

_-Beep beep beep!-_

He turned, sharply. 'Damn!' Damian wildly looked around him as he brought up everything he knew about this complex. 'Escape route.. escape route…. There!'

Damian ran, hiding in the shadows, out of sight whenever someone got too close. He finally came upon a small panel. The shaft would lead him outside. 'Just have to..' The door popped off with a sound that he was sure everyone had heard and he quickly  entered the shaft that was only a little bit bigger than himself.

He shut his eyes as he slid down the dark space. It was a short ride. And then… he was falling. His eyes flew open in alarm.

'SHIT!' Damian had forgotten that it had a gap. He was falling into a crevice. Panic bubbled up only to be forced down as he assessed the situation.

Quickly, he forced himself closer to one side and kicked off from it and landed against the other side, hands scrambling onto the rocks. He let out a breath as he caught himself.

Forcing himself forward and cursing his own forgetfulness, he pulled himself up the crevice rocks and pulled himself out of it. He let himself rest for a moment before telling himself to get up and go.

The landscape was covered in a rocky surface until it met the edge of a forest. Scrambling on the rocks as they cut into his feet through his shoes, he dashed into the forest cover.  Branches scrapped against his skin, some bluntly cutting into his skin.

At first he simply kept running, doing everything he could to mask his trail. Then when the night turned into day… he began to walk. His endurance had been reduced  due to his time in recovery.  His chest heaved and his stomach growled, not satisfied with the leftover cave r n pit plant life that he'd been making a meal out of since he came back to life.

Damian let himself plop down onto a giant rock on the edge of a river as he narrowed his eyes against the Sun's glare. Sweat beads rolled down his face and he leaned over and splashed some icy water onto his face.

It wasn't until hours later that he came across a small town. He looked at himself. His clothes were horribly torn and seemed to hang off of his form like the garments of a scarecrow. It made Damian grimace a little.

'No money, no phone, no weapons.. no way home.'

It took him a good five minutes what tale to tell when he walked into the town. It was lucky that he actually spoke the local dialect of the region's language. Being so young, he used it to his advantage and explained that he had gone with his family on a cross country trip when he'd been separated from them.

A strong lady hugged him tightly against her chest when he'd mentioned that he'd been stuck in the wild for several weeks. She patted his head and bought him a big meal that smelled so good it made his stomach growl. He hadn't had normal food in months. He's ashamed to say he ate as much as he could with less than pleasant table manners befitting a Wayne.

“May I use your computer?” he asked her after he'd eaten and taken a shower to clean up. The lady, who told him her name was Katri, agreed and ruffled his hair with a gentle smile. She warned him that the internet wasn't the best, being in such a remote area, but he didn't mind.

She went about her daily ways and left him with her computer. It's true, the internet was horribly slow, but Damian could fix that. He smiled and tapped a few keys on the computer. 'Just re-route this satellite here and tweak this a bit.. Bingo.' High speed internet. At least until someone found out he'd borrowed their satellite.

_-Access denied.-_

“Why you, idiotic..” Damian growled and punched in more keys as he tried to get around the Watchtower's security. He had to get into that system before he'd be able to slip into the whole for the Bat Cave that he'd found before.. well, before.

_-Access granted.-_

“Thank finally,” he breathed out, aggravated and exhausted as the day's events caught up with him. 'Just a little more..' he tapped the keys fervently. 'Ah-ha!'

The bat signal came to life over the computer and he grinned, victorious. The first thing he did was view the security cameras of the Manor. It wasn't something he had to do, but.. he felt like he needed to. He just had to check, had to be sure..

Alfred, his cat, and Titus, his dog, were well and were curled up together in the living room. It made him smile. He'd missed them a lot. Pennyworth was in the kitchen, cooking. His father.. 'Father is..' He searched and found his father in the library, reading.

It made him frown to realize that his father's face was worn and weary with exhaustion. It made him concerned. He was quick to check up on the others. Grayson was in Bludhaven, Todd was in another section of Gotham, but Drake walked into the Manor's living room, sitting down beside Titus and Alfred with his laptop in hand.

Damian felt a rush of envy. He wanted to be sitting there with Titus and Alfred. ..And he supposed he _would_ like to hear Drake's voice again.. It had been a long time since he'd seen them or heard any of their voices.

'Hm?' A little window opened up on his screen. His brows furrowed and he typed in a few things. “What in the..” He peeked at the security video camera to see Drake rapidly typing into his laptop, eyes flickering up to the camera. His mouth opened in a soundless yell.

'Oh.' Damian blinked. 'Ohhhh…' Drake had found his hack and was freaking out thinking it was an attack. His father ran into the room, face drawn taunt.

Pursing his lips, Damian let his hack slip in line with Drake's and opened a chat window. He typed: “Hello Drake.”

It amused him to see the way Drake froze, his face draining of blood. His father was beside him, fingers curled into fight fists. There was anger burning in his eyes and it confused him.

His father said something to Drake and he nodded, typing into the chat: _“Who is this?”_

Damian: _“Really Drake? You can't figure such a simple thing out?”_

Drake: _“Who the fuck is this.”_

Damian raised an eyebrow. “His brain's obviously turned to mush in my absence.”

Damian: _“Has your brain become so dulled that you can't even recognize my speech pattern? Really Drake.”_

Drake: _“Damian is dead. You're not him. Who are you.”_

Raising an eyebrow Damian typed: _“Being dead isn't a new thing, Drake. Neither is coming back to life. I recommend you remember Todd, should you need an example.”_

…

Drake: _“..Damian?”_

Damian rolled his eyes.

Damian: _“Yes, Drake?”_

Drake: _“Don't go anywhere.”_

He looked back the video to see Drake pulling out his phone and punching in buttons so fast Damian was tempted to tell him that he's surprised his phone hasn't broken, but he doesn't. He sees Drake practically yell into his phone. His father's staring at the computer screen over Drake's shoulder, expressionless.

Damian: _“Are you okay, Father?”_

He watches as Bruce chokes up, hand over his mouth and eyes closing tightly before opening again and looking at the computer screen as if he's afraid it's a dream. Damian squints to read his lips as Bruce mouths “Damian”. It makes him smile a bit.

Damian: _“Yes.”_

A little beep alerts him that the satellite is about to be redirected back to its earlier position. Damian winces. He wanted more time. He thought he had more time.

Damian hurriedly typed in: _“I have to go. The satellite's moving back to its position.”_

Bruce grabs Drake's shoulder and shakes him a little making him drop his phone and look at the computer, eyes widening. Drake types fast: _“Where are you?”_

There's no time, so he simply types in: _“No time. Message you tomorrow, this time.”_

Drake: _“No – Dami - “_

The connection cuts off and the security feeds die down. Damian feels like beating his fist into the wall. He's so angry. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair at all. It takes him ten minutes to calm down using the deep breathing technique he'd been hanging onto to calm himself from his bouts of rage and emotional instability.

Katri's head popped into the room. “Would you like some lavender tea?” Damian weakly nodded, “Yes, please. That sounds wonderful.” She smiled at him and he heard her walk back to the kitchen.

Damian leaned forward, burying his face in his hands for a moment. 'Okay, get it together. It's not that bad. Just one more day..' His heart ached. It was harder than he expected to see them, to talk to them before he'd been forcibly separated from them again. It seemed like everything was always getting in his way, always trying to rip him from them.

He rubbed his face before he got up and followed Katri out, listening to the clanking of pots and the running water to find the kitchen. “Katri?”

Katri looked up from putting the kettle on the stove. “Yes, dear?” Damian gave her a small smile, “I managed to get in touch with my friends, but we got cut off...”

Smiling warmly, Katri answered his unasked question, “You're welcome to stay here as long as you need to.” Damian smiled at her. She was being very kind to a boy who just showed up out of the wilderness.

Katri eyed him, searching before she offered, “Would you like to help me making lemon poppy seed cookies? They go well with this tea.” Damian bit his lip a bit nervously. “I've never made cookies before,” he admitted, ashamed.

“It's not hard,” Katri assured him, motioning him over as he brought out the ingredients. He had a surprising amount of fun helping her make the cookies. He did accidentally spill the sugar, but Katri just laughed and told him it was fine. He blushed, but she kept moving along and instructing him in mixing the ingredients together.

It turns out she was right. The cookies were delicious. 'Definitely on par with Pennyworth's,' Damian thought with a twinge of something in his chest. Something must've shown on Damian's face because Katri gave him a small, gentle smile and patted his hand. “It'll be okay,” she promised him. Damian clung to her words, feeling like his own age for once.

“Thank you,” he told her.

Katri borrowed some clothes from one of the other families in the town. They weren't the perfect fit, but they'd do. Katri promised to find some better clothes for him soon. Although Damian protested, he found that he couldn't argue when Katri asked if he intended to go around “nude” in the town instead. With a flush of embarrassment, he relented.

When day became night, she shooed him upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. Damian would've protested that he'd stayed up much later before, but he couldn't help admit that he was tired. Running from the League was tiring work, he could admit.

His face turned red when Katri kissed his forehead and showed him the small guest bedroom. She apologized for the size, but Damian shook his head. It didn't matter the size. It was clean and after all his time “in the wild” he would _love_ it. Katri gave him a small, sad smile and hugged him before she bid him 'good night'.

The bed was extremely soft compared to the moss that he'd curled up on top of in the bottom of the pit. He breathed in the scent of laundry soap and smiled to himself. He'd missed this. Sure, he did fine sleeping in rougher conditions, but a bed was a fine luxury to have and he'd been sorely refused that for some time.

Hoping that tomorrow would come quickly, he let his eyes slip closed and fell asleep.

Dreams of death, rage, and the glowing green of the Lazurus Pit haunted him in his sleep. He woke up twice, clawing at his sheets when he felt like he was being grabbed and drowned. He was grateful that he'd made no sounds that alerted Katri to his distress. He wasn't sure how to explain the way the nightmares clung to him.

Damian forced himself to after each nightmare, curling up with the hopes that it wouldn't be long before he'd be back with his family…

He was grateful when the sunlight began to stream in from the high window of the guest room. It was basically only a bed and a bookshelf, filled with tales in that area's language. It was nice. He noticed some Roman classics.

Katri eased the door open. Damian smiled at her. “Good morning, Ms. Katri.” She smiled at him, “Good morning, dear. Would you like to help me make breakfast?” Damian nodded, eager to do something. He was still just waking up but he was anxious to talk to them again. 'Another four hours,' he counted in his head with a grimace.

He helped her cook up some rice with eggs and veggies. He was okay with eggs, but he didn't eat any other meat. Katri didn't see the problem with it and made some French toast on the side, drizzled with some honey. It was delicious. He made sure to thank Katri and tell her it was so delicious.

With a few more hours left, Damian helped Katri go to the local store to pick up some more groceries since he'd imposed on her. She introduced him to several of the other patrons. It seems that in small towns word spread passed about newcomers. Though, he would be the first to admit, that a boy of his age walking into such a town from the wilderness _would_ cause a lot of curiosity.

They got back shortly before it was time for Damian to start getting the satellite together. He looked anxiously towards the room with the computer in it. Katri laughed softly. “Go. I can make lunch.” He looked at her to be sure, but she waved him off.

Damian tried not to think about the way he scrambled out of the kitchen and hurried to hack into the satellite. “Come on.. Come on..” he tapped his fingers impatiently as the satellite changed position. “Finally,” he sighed as the internet came on.

He wasted no time in retracing his steps through the JL security and into the Bat Cave's system. Except this time it seemed like he was expected, which he kind of was. Still he hadn't expected to see a chat open, waiting. Damian raised an eyebrow.

Damian: _“Eager Drake?”_

[Someone]: _“DAMI!?”_

Damian's brows furrowed in confusion. Drake didn't call him 'Dami' so who… Annoyed, he hacked into the security system and searched the video feed. He found his chatter in the living room where Drake and his father had been. Damian blinked, leaning back surprised as he noticed Grayson, Todd, Drake, his father, and Pennyworth are crowded in the living room.

Dick: _“Dami? You there? Is it really you?”_

Rolling his eyes, he replied: _“Yes, Grayson. You don't have to type so hard, you know.”_

Grayson's brows furrowed, confused until Drake tapped his shoulder and pointed to the security camera. Grayson's eyes lit up and he waved frantically at the camera like an overexcited child. Todd rolled his eyes and grabbed the laptop from Grayson while he wasn't paying attention.

Todd: _“If you're not the Demon Brat, I'm going to kill you.”_

Damian: _“Please, Todd. As if you'd be able to hit me.”_

Todd scoffed, a small smirk on his lips. He watched Grayson whack Todd on the back of the head and take back the laptop. His father was trying to talk over Todd's yammering and Drake didn't look happy about having his computer taken from him.

Damian: _“Grayson, play nice.”_

He saw them chuckle in amusement.

Grayson: _“Where are you, Baby Bat? ..What happened?”_

Damian paused for a moment. Horrific memories, visions of blood and green mixing in his head. He closed his eyes tightly as if it could protect him from seeing those sights, but it didn't help it was all in his head. His body shuddered.

Grayson:  _ “Dami? Dami, are you okay?” _

Damian pulled himself together to message:  _ “Fine, Grayson. ..Can you come get me?” _

He looked to the security feed, afraid.. hoping… There they were. All the previous Robins were holding their thumbs. His father was nodding and Pennyworth was smiling gently.

Drake slipped under Grayson's arm and typed:  _ “Send me a breadcrumb.” _

Damian agreed. It would help Drake trace him even when the satellite was retaken once it was noticed he'd borrowed it again.

He watched with interest as his father took the laptop from the three and typed in:  _ “Are you safe?” _

Damian hesitated for a moment, but they deserved the truth.  _ “Keep your eyes out. LoA.” _

The happy atmosphere faded in the background and Damian could practically hear the swears pouring out of Todd's mouth. Maybe even from Drake and Grayson. He felt bad for telling them, which was ridiculous because it wasn't like they'd never faced off against his Grandfather and mother.

Grayson took the laptop and typed in:  _ “Roger that, Dami. Stay safe.” _

Damian snorted. Of course he was going to stay safe. He didn't believe the League would think he'd made it this far and even if they did come this way, the idea that he'd actually gone into town and revealed himself in any way wasn't truly believable. Asking for help, getting outsiders involved, it wasn't the way League members were trained. Hopefully they'd overlook it enough for Batman and the others to reach him.

Todd nudged Grayson out of the way, taking the computer and typing in:  _ “Pit?” _

Damian typed in simply  _ “Yes.” _

Todd frowned, fists curling in tight at his side as Drake took the computer, listening to whatever father was saying. Drake:  _ “We'll be there as soon as possible. Don't do anything stupid.” _

Damian rolled his eyes:  _ “I'm not Todd, Drake.” _ He watched as Todd looked mockingly offended and the others laughed or chuckled at him.

When he was warned of the satellite being repositioned, he told them and wished them well. They made sure to tell him, reassure him, swear to him that they were coming for him. Damian swallowed a wave of emotion as the screen cut off. He hoped they would.. Soon.

He figured it would take a few hours for Drake to trace the breadcrumbs to his location and then a about four to six hours to get there. Damian bit his lip to keep himself from wishing they'd hurry. It's not like they could hear him and the wishing itself wouldn't help either.

“Are you ready for lunch, dear?” Katri asked from the doorway. Damian gave her a smile, trying to appear happy, but when she frowned and came over to hug him, he figured he'd failed at this attempt. “What's wrong?”

“I got in contact with them,” Damian told her. She smiled, “That's great.” Damian shrugged and she revised her response, “That's not so great?” He shrugged again.

“I just.. I wish they would hurry up and get here.”

Katri hummed, “Ohhh.. You miss them.” Damian frowned. “I don't.. Do I?” Katri patted his hair, laughing softly, “Yes, dear. You're homesick.”

“..I miss them.” Damian's voice was soft as he wrapped his arms around Katri and hugged her as he petted his hair gently. “I know.. they'll come for you soon, yes?” Damian nodded against Katri. She smiled, “Then you've nothing to worry about.”

Damian shrugged. “How about we make more cookies for your family?” Katri suggested. “Come along,” she helped Damian up and coaxed him to the kitchen. There was a soup, heating up on the stove. “It still needs some time to finish cooking,” she told him when she saw him look at it.

She proceeded to get out a bunch of ingredients. Damian eyed them all and then looked at her suspiciously. “This is more than just those cookies we made yesterday,” he stated. Katri raised an eyebrow and Damian decided he'd best not try to argue. Something told him he wouldn't win.

They ended up making several batches of cookies, from snickerdoodles to lavender tea cookies. Damian eyed the large amount of cookies. Despite the huge amount, he knew that with his brothers they wouldn't last long.

They ate lunch slowly, savoring the delicious soup of vegetables and tofu. It was truly delicious and he felt so happy and grateful towards Katri for considering his desire to not eat meat (eggs – okay, other meat – not really).

Still an hour and a half left. Damian tapped his finger on his knee. _'If_ they don't end up taking longer,' he noted with a sigh. Katri ends up dragging him, figuritively, outside to help her work on her garden because “sulking won't help”. Damian _isn't_ sulking. Mostly.

The time passes by quickly, because Damian actually does enjoy gardening. (He especially enjoys learning the herbal properties – some of which are poisonous, go figure.) He's telling Katri about the properties of Daphne and the poisonous berries.

“So the berries, either red or yellow, can cause one's mouth and intestinal tract to burn, then leads to coma, and usually death,” Damian was explaining. Katri was listening intently. She seemed honestly curious and interested.

He opened his mouth to discuss more about the properties, when his brows furrowed as a sound reached his ear. “Katri,” he said slowly, “were you expecting someone?”

Katri frowned, shaking her head. “No. Perhaps, it's your family?” He knew that she'd already taken how he'd said 'friends' and inferred 'family'. Damian trusted her, so he gave her that.

“Maybe,” Damian raised an eyebrow.

  


“Dami?”

Damian's head shot up and he looked over towards the front of the house, wide eyed. Katri grinned, “I guess I was right.” Damian rolled his eyes, smile on his lips playfully.

“Come along, dear,” she shooed him towards the front of the house. Damian fidgeted as he pushed him in front of her. When he froze, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, “It's okay.” She smiled gently at him.

Damian bit his lip, nervously as they rounded the corner of the house. He could see his three elder brothers and his father standing on the porch. Grayson's hand was poised to knock on the door again when Drake noticed them and elbowed Grayson, pointing.

Their eyes snapped over to him, ignoring Katri. Graciously, Katri nudged him forward. Damian cleared his throat and raised his hand to wave a little awkwardly at them. “It's been a while.”

“Dami!”

Suddenly Damian found himself grabbed and pulled into Grayson's arms, being hugged so tightly it made him blink. Grayson squeezed him close as Damian felt himself mirroring. “It's really you.”

Damian smiled a little, “Yes, Grayson. It is really me.”

His father cleared his throat a little making Grayson look up and reluctantly let Damian go. Todd ruffled his hair and gave him a quick, tight hug. Damian even found himself getting a hug from Drake.

Hopefully finished with all the hugs, Damian looked up at his father. “Hi, Father.” His father smiled at him and leaned down, picking Damian up and hugging him. Damian wrapped his arms around his father's neck and buried his face against him.

“I'm glad you're okay,” he heard his father murmur. Damian definitely agreed with him. Remembering Katri, he squirmed a little before his father put him down. “Come meet Katri. She allowed me to stay with her and took good care of me.”

They nodded, but looked serious as his father nodded, slowly, leaning in so that only his sons could hear him. “We need to talk about what happened.” Grayson cleared his throat and glared at his father until his father added on, “But later.”

Grayson stole Damian away from his father and for once Damian didn't mind one bit. They walked over to Katri and Damian smiled at her. “Katri, I'd like you to meet my family. This is..”

The cookies he'd made with Katri were well received and in the end, they ended up staying there for dinner when Katri insisted. On the jet back home, Damian curled up against Grayson's side with Todd on his other and Drake across from him. He knew that he'd have to tell them what he remembered, how it happened, about his new memory of his previous resurrection, but right now? Damian was just happy to be back with his family.

Grayson ran a hand through Damian's hair and smiled back at him. “We missed you.”

Damian softly responded with a small amount of redness in his cheeks, “I missed you too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian's finally home with his family. He just.. needs to figure out how to tell them about what happened.

Dick refused to let go of Damian the entire plane ride home. Damian knew what he was seeing. He imagined there were still parts of him that were bruised and a bit cut up. Some parts of him were littered with fresh scars, lingering hints of what he'd been through.

“Grayson, while I approve of your excitement to see me, perhaps you could allow me to go take a shower before we eat,” Damian drawled, secretly a little bit scared to have his elder brother let him go – he wouldn't admit it out loud though. He needed to show them he was okay alone. (He was. ..Wasn't he?)

His oldest brother looked at him with a concerned frown, eyes searching, trying to snag a glimpse behind Damian's facade. “Oh for fuck's sake, Wing,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. Dick found himself being manhandled away from Damian by Jason. “Baby bat isn't going to disappear in the shower. He'll be fine.”

With a panicked look, Dick watched as Damian left the room after a grateful nod to Jason. “Oh, God. What if he is?”

Jason stared at Dick, stunned into silence by his wild imagination. “What the fuck.” Tim was torn between his own feelings about supporting Dick's concerns or Jason's idea that it was ridiculous. “He'll be fine, Dick,” Tim told him, hiding his own nerves.

Slowly, Dick nodded, but he still looked stiff. “Why don't you go help Alfred get dinner set up for Damian?” Tim recommended. Dick blinked. “That's.. that's a good idea,” he concluded, slinking out of the room with a last glance at where Damian had disappeared to.

With Dick gone, Tim turned to Jason seriously. “He's not okay, is he?” Jason thought about it. He was 100% sure that Damian was in no way “okay”, but he was also 100% sure that there was something Damian wasn't telling them. There were shadows in their baby bat's eyes. Some, he recognized, but others… he was at a loss to decipher.

Finally, he replied as he stared at the door after Damian, “No.. I don't think he is, but..” Jason hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I think it's something more than that.” When Tim raised an eyebrow, Jason continued, “I don't know how to describe it. He's definitely been resurrected by the Lazarus Pit, that much I can tell.”

Jason's brows furrowed. “I think something more happened to him.” Tim frowned in consideration. What could “more” mean? Had something worse happened to Damian?

Being killed and then resurrected, especially through the Lazarus Pit, was traumatizing enough. Was it possible that something even more horrible than that experience had occurred?

Guilt coursed through their veins. They hoped not. They didn't like to even think about the idea that something could have happened beyond the horror of the Lazarus Pit could have happened to their youngest.

“Let's keep an eye on him.” As if they weren't already planning to do that. It was doubtless that no one was going to let him out of their sight for a long time. They already knew Bruce was taking time off of the League to stay with Damian. Between the five of them.. maybe they'd be enough.

  
  


Dinner was a tense affair for Damian. Grayson kept asking if he was okay and if he needed more. While it was pleasant to return to the Manor and partake of Pennyworth's delicious cooking, Damian was really tired – exhausted actually. He was burnt out, nerves frayed.

“Are you sure you've had enough?” Grayson asked after Damian announced his plans to rest. Everyone was looking at him with concern and he honestly hated that.

“Dick..” Bruce warned, already seeing the signs of Damian's exhaustion.

Damian sighed and gave Dick a small, weary smile. “I am simply tired, Grayson. I assure you, I've had plenty to eat.”

Grayson reluctantly surrendered and stared at Damian all the way until he'd left his sight.

  
  


Damian shut the door to his room, leaning on the door heavily. Perhaps he thought a closed door could keep everything that had happened to him out, could keep the nightmares from getting it.

He shook his head of those silly notions. “Get a grip on yourself, Damian,” he demanded. “Everything that happened, happened. You died.” He choked up a little. “Twice.”

A shudder passed through his body, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. He looked down at his arm, bumpy from the small quake. It was hard to believe he was alive again – not for the second time, but for the _third._ He clenched his hands, squeezing them into fists.

Damian still didn't remember, couldn't tell how he'd died the first time. He only remembered waking up surrounded by green and being unable to breathe. Then he remembered the nightmares, the same ones he'd experienced this last time.

There was no doubt that his family was going to ask him about what happened, how he'd gotten to where he was. He'd be required to speak to J'onn or Black Canary to evaluate his mental state.

Somewhere along the line, he was going to have to either tell them himself or somehow they'd find out.

He stripped, throwing his clothes in the hamper as he slipped into the bathroom, starting himself a nice hot shower. “What do I do?” he questioned himself, eyes wide as he stared at the scar on his hand he'd given himself in his fear and rage. Warm water dashed itself against his skin as he stood there, helpless. How could he tell them he'd already been dead once before?

  
  


Uncertain of how to tell them, Damian found himself subtly redirecting the conversation whenever they tried to talk to him about what happened. When they wouldn't give up the subject, Damian took to avoiding them altogether. He wasn't sure how to tell them what happened.

After he'd first told them about growing up under his Grandfather's steady gaze, they'd looked terrified. Obviously tales of his first broken bone or the way he'd been taught to survive alone in the wild weren't the kinds of things they'd wanted to hear. It had been all he could tell them though. He didn't have their type of happy stories. There was no “trips to get ice cream”; it was all for the sake of becoming a better assassin.

He was starting to figure out how he wanted to tell them, when his reprieve came to an end – with Todd.

Damian was sipping tea as he flipped through a book about poisonous plants in the living room when Todd plopped down beside him. Damian raised an eyebrow at Todd's gruff expression.

“What happened, demon brat?” Todd questioned, eyes locking onto Damian's with determination, worry shining through.

Damian stiffened. “Jay, you can't just blurt it out like that!” Grayson called frantically as he rushed into the room. Drake stuck his head in for a moment, searching Damian's face and seemingly finding something, because he slipped away and returned again with Bruce.

He didn't notice fully as he had been too busy holding Todd's gaze. He wasn't about to look away, but it appeared Todd was incredibly stubborn. “Jason, you can't just...” Bruce began, but Damian held up a hand, stilling any words in his father's mouth.

There was something in the way Todd looked at him. More importantly, though, there was the matter of his _eyes._ Their normal color was skewed by the way little slivers of green shone through. It was the same ghastly color of the Lazarus Pits – evidence that their host was a survivor of such a traumatic experience.

It wasn't normal, but then again, what was these days? Damian sighed, closing his book and setting his tea aside as he let his eyelids fall shut for a moment. He had surrendered to the ghosts in Todd's eyes. How could he deny his brother in experience when the reason for his questioning was pure concern?

He was still for several minutes, allowing himself time to gather his courage, to fight off those blood stained, nightmare inducing memories. Was he ready? Perhaps not. Maybe he wouldn't ever be fully ready, but it had to be now. Somehow, he had to get the words out.

Everyone was still, looking at him when he opened his eyes. The entire family was more than capable of reading body language and facial expressions. They'd seen him give in to Todd's pleas.

“I-” His voice came out hoarse and scratchy, so he cleared his throat and began again. “I'm not quite sure how to explain it to you,” he admitted. “You know what happens to those that come back from the Lazarus Pit.” They were nodding, all of them. Except Todd.

“I'm not asking about that, Damian,” Todd responded, voice low and gentle. His brothers and father looked at Todd with confused expressions.

Damian gave him a small smile. “I know.” His face twisted in pain as memories bubbled up. He was sure they could see the glow of green in his own eyes.

“Todd,” he began, “both you and myself have been subjected to dying and then being revived in the Lazarus Pit.” Damian's hands fidgeted nervously. “While we both share similar experiences in that part, I first became aware of a few differences between us as I was.. dying.”

Someone made a wounded sound at the recollection, but Todd kept looking at Damian, silently encouraging. “I remembered that death wasn't the first time I had died.” He didn't stop to look at anyone, to see their faces as his words sunk in. Instead he continued to talk about what happened, about how he'd first realized it, how he remembered it.

Damian swore when he stumbled over words, swore when his voice cracked as he told them about his nightmares, but he kept going. That was at least one thing that, once it had been engraved in him, he was unable to forget.

He managed to compose a mask of stability just in time to end his tale with, “What is it you Americans say? 'Third time's the charm'?” Damian shrugged.

His brows furrowed as he noticed the way Grayson was leaning on the couch, knuckles white as he gripped it. Drake didn't look much better as he clutched his tablet tightly in his hands, so tightly that Damian was afraid he might break it. His father looked frozen with a perpetual blank face that implied he was.. extremely angry about something.

  
  


'What the fuck, baby bat..' was Jason's first thought as his brain kickstarted back to life. He felt like he'd been dumped in icy water. He couldn't imagine coming back to life for the second time. Having entered the Lazarus Pit's green waters once was heartbreaking enough, but _twice?_ Twice was a nightmare. Twice was absolute torture.

“Fuck, Damian..” He reached out, pulling his youngest brother into his arms and holding him tightly. Jason was overcome with an infinite amount of rage. He wanted to kill the League of Assassins, rip them to pieces, because somehow it was obviously their fault and they deserved it. He wanted to find the mob members who'd beaten Damian to death and blow their brains out, painting the wall in their blood and brain matter.

They might not have started as the best of friends, but Jason felt more connected to him than he did to all of the others. Their pasts as killers and their time with the League gave them an understanding of one another. He clung to that thread. Or he had.

He had been prepared to talk to Damian, help him understand the implications and effects of waking up, alive, in the Lazarus Pit's waters, but hearing that he knew about it, experienced it before alone, without Jason? He absolutely loathed the idea of his baby brother having to go through it alone.

  
  


Bruce was at a loss, a rare moment in his life. He was always being prided as having the answers, but right now? He had none. Slid over to Jason's side, kneeling beside the two of them and rested a hand on Damian's shoulder. He watched for Damian to look at him before he started.

“I'm.. I'm so sorry, Damian, that you ever had to go through that. We're sorry,” Bruce added, because he knew his boys felt the guilt he did, for not being able to save Damian, for not finding him sooner. His voice died when Damian's small hand clutched his and squeezed.

Damian knew. He understood.

  
  


Tim wanted to throw his tablet out the window, wanted to revel in the way it shattered. He should've found him sooner. He should've talked to him sooner. 'I let him go through it all alone..' He grimaced.

Despite the way that they had clashed when Damian had first come, they way they had fought, Tim knew that Damian had had a hard past with the League. Anyone who hadn't was surely as insane as the Joker. Damian hadn't been raised normally. He'd been hurt and had his hands stained at an early age.

Tim had let anger to overcome his rational thoughts and he hated himself for it. More than that, he hated the way he hadn't found Damian sooner. He hadn't actually found Damian at all, if he was honest. Damian had found them.

When Bruce told him that they loved him, Tim had shot over to them and tugged Damian into his arms, hugging him tightly and apologizing over and over again. Damian had been tense at first, resistant, but it both warmed and broke his heart when he felt himself be hugged in return. “It's alright, Drake,” Damian's soft voice came in his ear. “All is well.” It made Tim's eyes fill with tears. Damian is the one who'd been so hurt, yet here he was comforting Tim.

“I'm sorry,” Tim murmured again, because it felt like all he could do. It still wasn't enough.

  
  


Dick was the last to unfreeze. He could see Damian shaking in Tim's embrace and he felt like the world was quaking. Since the day Damian died, Nightwing roamed the streets and delivered a very painful punishment to any mobsters he found. It didn't change anything, no matter how much he wished it had.

When Tim had called, telling him that Damian was alive, he hadn't believed it at first. Damian had died in his arms, his warm eyes had frozen in a glassy, unseeing gaze. He remembered holding his precious brother's body in his arms and feeling like the world had ended.

But Tim proved it and they ended up in some remote town in a foreign country on the outskirts of the League of Assassin's domain. When he'd first spotted Damian, the world had come back into focus, the black had faded and was replaced with a rainbow of colors. Never had he been so happy than the moment he'd held his brother in his arms again. He was alive.

Now he was shocked and drowning with pain for his brother. Damian was alive again, but this time.. no, it had been all along, really. Damian was suffering.

He couldn't breathe with the chaotic thoughts that wanted to steal Damian away to protect him and keep safe and the thoughts that wanted to slaughter everyone who'd hurt his brother.

“Grayson?”

Dick's eyes snapped over to Damian. Everyone was looking at him, worried, but expectant. “Come here,” Damian commanded, holding his arms open.

He wanted a hug. Dick's anger and shock fell away and he raced over to Damian, throwing his arms around him as a sobbed clawed its way from his throat. “Damian, Damian.. oh Damian...” He couldn't help but repeat his little brother's name, over and over and over again.

“I missed you, Grayson,” Damian whispered, shyly. Dick kissed his cheek and then his forehead, holding him tightly. “I missed you too, Dami,” Dick told him, choking on emotion.

“Don't worry Damian. Third time's the charm, I swear it,” Dick promised his little brother, promised himself. The horror of the possibility that his little brother might've died and he almost never met him was something he'd have nightmares about for a long time to come.

The loss of losing his brother, of having him die in his arms was always going to haunt Dick. It was going to make him unsteady for years to come. He kept reminding himself that Damian was alive now, that he was back.

Dick knew that no one was going to let anyone or anything, not even Death, take their little brother away. They would fight for him, protect him, destroy anyone who wanted to take him away from them. Third time was going to be the limit. No one was taking him away from them ever again.

  
  


Damian let Grayson squeeze him tight, arms threatening to never release him. He was okay with that. In his brother's arms, he was safe. No one was going to kill him ever again. With the way his family was looking, he wasn't sure if they'd ever let anyone go for hurting him. Still, he was okay with that.

He was home again, in a place where he was wanted and loved. This place was far from the place in which he' been brought back to life in a torturous way.

His eyes lingered on the pain on everyone's faces. Damian spotted tears on Pennyworth's cheeks as the butler stood at the door, silently onlooking the scene. His death had hurt them – that much was obvious and he hated to see the looks of grief on their faces.

If they were going to swear to do their utmost to protect him, Damian was going to swear to do his best to protect them from losing him again. He was their brother, his father's son, Pennyworth's charge and he wasn't going to go down so easily. This was his family and he was finally home.

There was bound to be problems in the future, but those issues could wait. Right now, he was content to relax in the safety of his family's arms. “I'm home,” he smiled at them, eyes watering a little.

His father smiled back at him. “Welcome home, son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this idea hanging over my head for a while and finally hopped to it.  
> Hopefully it turned out good, but no guarantees from me.
> 
> Have a great rest of the week.
> 
> Tumblr: tabihe

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ So.. This really got away from me. I'm not sure how it got that domestic, slice of life feeling. It was supposed to be more.. tortured? I'm not sure. I lost me somewhere along the way. Better put up "Have you seen..?" posters.
> 
> This turned into a gift fic for fishfingersandjellybabies because that writer's works are super amazing (if you haven't read, I highly recommend).
> 
> I ended up not including the scene where Damian tells his family about remembering that he's died and been resurrected before. Does it need a sequel to wrap that up? You can comment here or send me a message on tumblr (tabihe). I post updated versions of my fanfics on my tumblr and if you ever wanna ask me how a work is going/recommend a scene or chat about a scene, I'm up for it.
> 
> Hope it was okay. Have a good day/night~


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